


The McAslitair Estate

by Red_Baroness



Category: Darkest Dungeon (Video Game), Original Works
Genre: Eldritch Monsters, Lovecraftian Horror, References to Alcohol, References to brothels, Tentacle Monsters (not the sexy kind), Will add more warnings as this goes along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-07-27 20:33:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16226819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_Baroness/pseuds/Red_Baroness
Summary: The following are entries recovered from the personal journal of Annabella McAlistair, heiress to the McAlistair fortune, and owner of the McAlistair Estate.





	1. Week 1

May 1st, 1632 

After receiving the letter from my now deceased uncle, I was tentative to go to his estate. The horrors he had single-handedly released upon the world had already muddied our family name enough that I considered faking my own death, and starting fresh. Nonetheless, I found myself loading up a carriage with what little wealth I had left, and planning my trip to his lavish estate. I used to long to own this estate when I was young, but now I am nothing but repulsed by the idea of living in that unholy building. 

Using almost all of the gold I had left, I hired two bodyguards. A stoic Crusader, who hath been dismissed from his post for one reason or another. His armour was cracked, dented, and worn. His sword was dulled from usage, and rusting. But he had one, and seemed in good health. So I took him along. The next bodyguard I hired was an old thief named Damien. His pistol was old, but he could aim it well enough, and had plenty of munitions. His dagger was nothing impressive, but he assured me he could gut anyone with it just as good as if it were as sharp as the day he found it. They both charged cheap, so I was getting what I paid for. 

I loaded the two men into the carriage with me, and the old caretaker, whom of which I can’t remember the name of, started our journey. We went through the old, haunting, deathly quiet woods that housed the pathway to my new estate. My new hellscape. I had to redeem the McAlistair name, so I had to go through these gloomy, suffocating woods. I noticed us taking up speed, far too much as the carriage toppled over. 

I lost consciousness for a bit, and when I awoke the caretaker was gone. My two guards, however, were not. Damien helped me to my feet, and I finally took in his features. His eyes were tired, likely having seen much horror and hardship. His face, that wasn’t covered by his scarf, was weathered and scarred, yet remained sharply handsome. His hand that held mine as he pulled me to my feet was deeply calloused, like a beaten leather. The Knight called to us that we needed to get going. Damien warned us about these woods, and I found it odd how well he knew the area around us. 

He took us through a side path, but nonetheless one of the vile bandits that rule these woods crossed us. I was not usually one for confrontation, so I moved to pull out my coin-purse. Before I could, Damien had cut the Brigands throat out, and left him bleeding. He pulled out a large sack of gold coins, and tossed it to me. The loot of the fallen thief. We noticed a tent not too far off, and went to investigate. We came to the conclusion it was once owned by the man who lay not 20 feet away from us, in his own regurgitated blood. We found a chest within the tent, and I stuffed my pack with gold. The dead needn’t own riches, afterall. 

We continued down the pathway, before I noticed a chest in the middle of the road. I, in a fit of gold-lust, approached it. The bullet only barely missed my head, before I noticed two bandits. One stood impossibly large, holding a whip and pistol. The other held a blunderbuss rifle, the smoke indicating he was the shooter who nearly took my life. I stepped back, allowing my paid warriors to fight in my steed. Damien fired a bullet into the Gunmen’s leg, causing him to fall to his knees, but not kill him. The man fired off another round, missing, thankfully. 

The Knight got to work hacking at the hulking brute, cutting off his left hand, before driving the sword deep into his gargantuan gut. Damien fired a second shot, this time landing in the throat of the gunman. I found more loot off of them, and collected it. One of which was a key, which I used to open the chest. I found the chest was laced with spikes dotted with poison. If I had forced it open, it’d have pricked me, surely. I took the gold I found in there, as well as some precious stones, and stored them away. 

We finally trudged to the estate. There was very few, if any, buildings open. Only my own estate, and the barracks, were open. I allowed my two guards to go and retire for the night. I had renovations to do soon. The Caretaker, luckily, was still here. I had him go out to find some more recruits, and he set-off. The Gypsy Nomad who my Uncle told many stories of was also there, selling her wares to nobody in particular. I soon retired, spending my first night enveloped by a suffocating evil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first in a large series I will be doing in conjunction with playing the game Darkest Dungeon. It's all for fun. I am accepting names for characters for when I get them.


	2. Week Two

May 5th, 1632

It was awkward, adjusting to all of these new changes. There was a constant draft in my room, and the caretaker, who has a tendency to ramble on for hours, doesn’t stop with nightfall. I’ve had far too many sleepless nights. 

When I woke up today, however, I was greeted with a carriage approaching the manor. At first, I thought bandits. Then I realized the maddened caretaker was at the front of it, leading it. I walked to it, wondering what this was about. He didn’t offer an explanation, but then I saw the door open. Two women stepped out, one dressed in the garb of the disgraced medical professionals who bore the pointed beak-like masks. Plague Doctors. Her name was Marie. She spoke in a soft voice, with a husky undertone. I can’t say I wasn’t a fan of it. The other woman was a Vestal, one of the warrior nuns who came to rise after the Eldritch Monstrosities emerged from my uncle’s land. Her name is Rhiannon, a lovely name that only matched her complexion. 

This was also the first time I heard my Crusader’s name. He talked with the Vestal for some time, both being followers of the Light, devoted to their religion. His name is Vladimir, I hadn’t realized he was Russian. It was nice to know his name, I would refer to him as Vlad though. We now had a full team expedition party, now. So I decided that visiting the ruins of the older parts of the manor would be a smart idea. I supplied us well, I wasn’t going to be stingy. 

A shovel per person, four sets of torches, bandages, antidotes, a surplus of rations, and the weapons my warriors came with. The Plague Doctor had her own… interesting concoctions. She also welded a small blade, which I would not trust her to use during surgery on me. The vestal had her tome and mace. The mace was splintering on it’s wooden base, and some of the studs had come out. Seeing the state of my warriors weaponry made me think about getting a blacksmith and armoursmith soon. I also wanted to open up the chapel and bar soon, to help ease the stress taking us over. 

Anyway, back to the expedition we were starting. Vladimir led, holding a torch high. Behind him was Damien, keeping a watchful eye on our surroundings. I was glad to have someone who knew the dangers of this world, and he certainly wasn’t difficult to look at. Marie was mixing some unknown chemical mixture that gave off an acrid smell. I had no idea what she looked like, I was curious. But I also wasn’t sure of how much I can trust her, yet I allowed her to lead me alongside the rest of my militia. We found an old, unburnt torch mounted on the wall, and I put it in my pack along with the other spares. 

Continuing down the hall, we entered a chamber. Adorning the center was a large, magnificent chest. Two skeletons dressed in raggy cloth, and wielding large wooden clubs. These were one of many side-effects of the horror released by my late uncle. The dead have been rising ever since the dark arts became popular, thanks to the teachings of the Elder Gods. Something like that, I never really understood magic. I don’t think I want to understand it, honestly. 

The two Rabbles stood before me, their bones cracking and grinding as they raised their clubs. Barbaric, even in death. Vladimir said a simple prayer, before pointing at the two skeletons and shouting in either latin, russian, or something else. I couldn’t tell. The two skeletons standing before us were enveloped in an intense, golden light before they both disintegrated. I walked over, going to open the chest and emptied the contents into my pack. Gold, jewels, and another shovel. 

Conveniently, that shovel came into play. Rubble, once belonging to a support pillow, or maybe an upper level. Bricks, stone, it all became an obstacle. We spent a large amount of time using our shovels to break our way through to continue our advancement. I helped out, with the spare we found. My arms ached, and sweat soaked my brow, so I decided to allow my soldiers continue to do the work for me. After all that is what I am paying them for.

On the other side awaited the enemy. A skeletal warrior, holding a rusted sword and adorned with the dated armour of older times. Another of the rag-clad, club-wielding skeletons joined it. However, it was the living specimen that joined them that caught my eye. A younger woman in the garbs of the depraved worshippers of the Elder Gods. They used to be more hidden with their heretical practices, but now that my Uncle released their master they’ve been popping up more often. 

Rhiannon said a small prayer, before pointing her mace at the boney soldier. He glowed yellow, before returning to dust. I smiled gently to the Vestal after her impressive display. Vlad said a prayer as well, before pointing to the raggy skeleton, casting the Light’s wrath on it. The skeleton lost its stolen life too, falling to the aged ground with a clatter. The Cultist woman began a short incantation, before a hole opened up in her throat. The source was Damien’s flintlock, which he pocketed. I stepped over the corpse towards a door at the end of the hallway. The chamber we found ourselves in was empty, surely looted before we came. We decided to rest as Damien volunteered to scout ahead. When he came back, he told us he found a room with some loot, but it was unfortunately guarded. He was confident we could defeat them, however. I enjoyed how his eyes sparked with enthusiasm when he delivered us the news. There was soft compassion beneath the battle-worn, heavy exterior. 

We made our way to the next chamber, the one he said held the treasure. He slowly opened it, firing a round into one of the Cultist Priests that sat in there. She was dead before she hit the ground. One of the warriors of the Old Ones, a male that was built and chiseled from bricks, with black bloodied claws strapped to his hands, lunged for me. Of course, as I am writing this, he didn’t kill me. Damien intercepted, driving a sturdy shoulder into his gut to knock him off balance. He quickly followed up with his blade sinking into the Brawler's gut, slicing open the heretic. He let the man fall to his knees and try to hold his innards inside of him. Meanwhile, a skeletal soldier was desperately trying to defeat Vlad. Clearly proper motor-skills are not part of what necromancy restores, however. Vlad quite literally disarmed the skeleton, before bashing in its exposed skull with his cross-guard. He finished it off by slashing the constructs legs in half and stomping down on its spine. It gave a satisfying crunch beneath Vladimir’s leather boot. 

I got to work looting the chest. Jewels, gold, trinkets. Everything we’ll need to keep my men happy and fed, and to run my hamlet. Damien scouted out once more, finding a dangerous trap that he easily dismantled. We all began down the hall, finding another empty chamber. 

During our trek, Marie seemed to slip from rationality. She kept mumbling to herself, and she refused to listen to my orders. I hoped we’d be able to bring her back from insanity, or else I’d have to abandon her. 

We enter another chamber, a skeleton platoon waiting for us. Two of the deceased soldiers stood with swords at the ready, while an undead archer stood at the back, holding a heavy arbalest crossbow. 

Rhiannon quickly smote it, the Light reducing the archer to a pile of bones and armour. Marie, in all of her madness, charged one of the skeletons. She made quick work of it, mad stabbings and slashing destroying the poor soldier. Vlad used the crossguard of his sword to knock the other soldiers head off, crushing it with a strike by his hilt. That’s when an old fountain caught my gaze. 

It was a fountain adorned by an angel, an ancient holy relic that I was surprised still worked. I had Marie stumble over to it to soothe herself. She removed her mask, and that is when I saw her features. She was younger looking than I expected. I was surprised she was around my age. Her hair was auburn, and her eyes were emeralds adorned by her soft features. She drank from the fountain, before washing her face with it. She seemed to calm down for a bit, still shaking slightly and murmuring under her breath. 

The chamber we were in was a dead-end, so we returned to the chamber we came from, turning down a different corridor as we got there. We stopped half-way through the hall, deciding to open up some of our rations. We ate our bread, dried meat and berries, before washing it all down with lukewarm water. 

We entered what appeared to be a heavily guarded room. A massive shield-bearer turned undead fiend held the front. It wielded a massive axe and shield, guarding its allies. A soldier wielding a long dulled sword stood beside it. A skeletal nobleman stand behind the shieldbearer, taking a sip from its unholy goblet. At the very end was an archer, crouched and poised to fire on us with arrows. 

Damien took aim, firing a round that exploded the skull of the once nobleman, now skeleton. Ivory fragments rained to the floor beneath its feet, before it crumpled and died. Rhiannon blinded the shieldbearer, going to side-step and smash its skull in with her mace. The soldier and Vlad crossed blades, meanwhile, metal clanging. The arbalest then fired, and I was worried I was in it’s sights. However, when I saw the arrow puncture Marie’s stomach, I knew I wasn’t the target. I rushed to her side, going to pull the arrow out and apply bandages. Rhiannon said a blessing, washing her in healing light. Damien fired another shot with deadly accuracy, killing the archer. At the same time, Vlad overpowered the skeletal warrior and cut it in two. 

After making sure our packs were laden with loot, we made our way home. I sent Marie to go meditate and calm her nerves, and the rest of the soldiers I sent to rest. I was pleased to find my Caretaker restored many of the old buildings. The Tavern and Abbey were both up and running, Marie enjoying the perks of the latter. I went to check on her a few hours after I sent her. She was sitting in a room, incense lit in the center of the room. She was sitting there, all of her armour behind her, including her mask. I didn’t want to disturb her, she looked so peaceful. I left her to her meditation. 

I went to check out the tavern next, going to say hello to the bartender. He was large and aged, likely a warrior in the past. He had many stories to tell patrons, and I decided to sit in and listen. Whiskey found its way into my glass, and then into my stomach. He was one of my Uncle’s workers when he did his excavations. He showed me the scars, and his axe. He smiled a bit and told me I looked like my mother, a woman I never knew. 

I had to excuse myself after a bit, to continue running my Hamlet.

 

Finally, I went to the stagecoach. I hired a new, proper driver to go into town to collect new souls. New soldiers. I walked back to my manor, going to lay down on my bed and allowing sleep to take me.


End file.
